


Oversteeped

by Le_Noir (Psycho_Chiquita)



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: And the tiiiniest itty bitty-est bit of Angst, College Roommate AU, Humor, M/M, and Oswald's sass, feat. Jim's bad singing, in the loosest of terms, itty bitty, just a smidge, k?, look I just wanted to write these two being a cute mess together, the after-party, thinly veiled Gobblepot and we all know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 10:19:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18408638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psycho_Chiquita/pseuds/Le_Noir
Summary: They had a handful too many drinks, and now it's up to one roommate to help another get to their dorm-room.Because, you know, they're bros.





	Oversteeped

**Author's Note:**

> Because of the clusterbuck I'm juggling, I might not be able to get anything out anytime soon, and since this was already part of a piece I'm working on but doesn't necessarily fit I thought it could go up on it's own. Think of it as a deleted scene if you will.  
>   
> So, like, enjoy :D

* * *

It’s closing in on three in the morning when the peaceful quiet of the dorm hall is interrupted by distant laughter and the muted sound of approaching shuffling.  
  
There’s a scramble through the hallway doors, a rattling of the frosted glass as a body slumps against one and a pair of hands struggles to grip the handle of the other.  
  
"Pull, it says _PULL_ you  _IDIOT_ ,” comes in muffled through the heavy doors followed by a short snort and a readjustment of the slumped body. Once both of the forms lean away from the glass in unison, the door swings violently to Oswald stumbling through the door frame and dragging in a haggard Jim barely able to keep himself upright.  
  
“You said it was just going to be a tea party,” Oswald complains, struggling to shuffle both his and Jim’s weight down the hallway towards their room.  
  
Jim nods his head laggardly. “There was tea, yes.”  
  
"And _booze_ , Jim, I swear your glass was more whiskey than tea at one point.”  
  
"Many points,” Jim corrects, swinging a pointing index towards Oswald and throwing both of them off balance. Oswald slaps Jim’s hand down with a scoffing _stop that._  
  
“Buh, besides, you’re one to talk, mister red wine and rooibos.”  
  
“There was so much fruit syrup added to the bottle it might as well have been a cordial,” Oswald grumbles and heaves out a sigh of relief once they’re standing clear in front of their own door after what seemed like a mile stretch. His good leg can only go on so much farther.  
  
But there’s the slight problem of Oswald being able to pull out his key card to unlock their door. Problem being Jim is splayed flat against his side, resting fully on the breast pocket where he keeps his wallet.  
  
"Can you get your card?”  
  
”I-, hold’un.”  
  
Jim pats down his front pocket, wide sweeping slaps of his hand hitting everything but as he looks up to Oswald with a worried frown.  
  
" ‘s not there.”  
  
Oswald rolls his eyes. “Maybe check your _back_ pocket?”  
  
Patting down his rear jean pocket, Jim beams towards Oswald when he fishes out the card from the leather billfold and works on sliding the key through the reader.  
  
The lock groans, a red light coming on instead of the usual green. Both Jim and Oswald pinch their eyebrows in confusion.  
  
“Is not readin’ ", Jim slurs, squinting at the reader and giving the card a few more passes before resorting to slapping the lock with the plastic.  
  
"Let me try,” Oswald offers with an extension of his free hand. Jim only slaps his open palm away and continues to wave the card uselessly over the reader.  
  
“N-no, I gots it.”  
  
"Jim-”  
  
"Nuh, lemme,”  
  
"JAMES”  
  
"No!” Jim whines, a shove of his foot making him lose balance and Oswald doesn’t know how much longer he can keep his drunk roommate upright. He can barely manage to keep himself stable, what with his heavy handed servings of gin and earl grey he served himself, after the cordial.  
  
“Let, let me, hold, wai- urgh, hold on, Gordon _WAIT_ , let, me, _see-”_ he struggles as Jim falls even lower to the ground while swinging his arm around with the keycard. He tries to gently lower him down but has a hard time fighting over the card that Jim swings just out of his reach, the asshole.  
  
He manages to smack Jim’s arm down far enough to snatch the card out of his hand, and just when he’s lifting the card up with a cheer he freezes in place at the realization the idiot had been trying to scan his bus pass.  
  
“Oh my god you imbecile,” he groans as he lets go of his hold around Jim’s waist, letting him drop onto the hallway floor in a lump of inebriation.  
  
Jim rubs at his elbow with a wince and squints up to Oswald. “Wha- why’d you do that?”   
  
“Because you’re stupid,” Oswald replies as he throws the bus pass towards Jim’s face, satisfied with it slapping and sticking onto his dumb cheek.  
  
He lets out a groan as he reaches for his wallet to get his own keycard out, Jim meanwhile peeling the bus pass off his cheek and giving it a once over before drunkenly chuckling out a deep laugh.  
  
"I swear,” Oswald groans as he shoves the door open and grips onto Jim’s arm to lift him off the floor. Again.   
  
“I have, no idea, what you would do without me.”  
  
”Try ‘n get a bus ride with my room key, apparently,” Jim replies honestly and Oswald has to cough out a laugh, because he can imagine the bus driver struggling to turn Jim away as he keeps sliding his room key back and forth through the card reader.  
  
After finally dragging Jim to his side of the room, Oswald drops him onto his bed in an awkward heap, sluggishly fighting off the mess of arms and legs Jim has turned into once he’s plopped down onto his back over the disaster of his bed.  
  
“God, Jim, for a cadet your side is a _mess_ ,” he sneers. At least, it _feels_  like a sneer. He can’t tell with the way his face has gone numb, but he plops himself onto his own bed with a tired huff before scoffing towards Jim again.  
  
"Consider straightening out once in a while?”  
  
“Straight,” Jim giggles. He gives off a happy hum, a hand circling in the air to conduct his own phantom orchestra.  
  
“It’s Friday night and I ain’t got nobody, what’s the use of making the bed?” he sings out, sharp and deafening and Oswald would smile more genuinely if it didn’t hurt as much as it unintentionally did.  
  
“That must, s-suck,” Jim states after a pause. Oswald sobers up a little before daring to beckon further.  
  
“What does?”  
  
Jim props himself onto one elbow, blinking towards Oswald through the alcohol haze while flicking his conductor’s finger towards him.  
  
“Not havin’ anybody,” he slurs. “Imagine, being Friday night ‘n you ain’t got ‘nybody to go around with.  
  
You're jus’ ‘n disembodied head. Rollin’ round. No body.”  
  
Oswald stares in disbelief before an undignified snort surfaces, making him blush scarlet with equal parts humor and embarrassment. Jim gleams with pride, his eyes shining with mirth.  
  
“You’re proud of yourself for that one, aren’t you?” Oswald finally manages to ask between restrained giggles, shrugging off his coat as he watches Jim nod eagerly with that boyish grin of his. The beautiful bastard.  
  
“Just wait ‘till I have kids. It’ll just get worse from there.”  
  
Oswald gives a slight pause halfway through taking off his second shoe, refuses to dwell on how that statement stabs a peculiar sensation through his chest. He blames it instead on exhaustion, kicking off the last garment and splaying himself on the bed to sleep off the night.  
  
"Oz?" he hears Jim call out into the hushed stillness between them, nudging Oswald back from the cloud of sleep for a brief moment.  
  
"hmm."  
  
"Your leg okay?"  
  
His eyes barely lift, but it's enough to catch Jim glancing over from his bed with a look of guilty concern.  
  
"Yeah, it's okay. Get some rest, you dope, or I'm not buying you that coffee."  
  
Jim smiles warmly at Oswald's idle threat, and all Oswald can do is roll his eyes and smile back, the blanket of exhaustion pulling over him once more.  
  
He falls asleep facing Jim’s side of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> I ~~had~~ _have_ a college piece I'm working on, but adulting gets in the way. Damn priorities.  
>   
> I randomly hammered this out after my co-worker made a dad joke while we listened to my current song obsession "Hurricane Jane", and somehow I couldn't help but think of these two stumbling back home drunk.  
>   
> Even though the song is about weed. But that's our jobs as creators, no? Taking something out of nothing?
> 
> Anyway, lots of love from my end, lets hope I don't die anytime soon; I also randomly decided to start working out again.  
> I need to work on my health overall, and exercise also helps me with mental clarity.  
> -P.C.


End file.
